Summer
by hereisnowhy
Summary: Two weeks into a holistic infertility treatment, you jokingly tell Pete that if his crazy Eastern voodoo magic can get you pregnant, he can name your child whatever ridiculous hippie name he so chooses. Addie/Pete and baby.


**Disclaimer:** Private Practice and its characters belong to Shonda Rhimes/ABC.

**A/N:** I needed something almost too happy. Also, I haven't written anything in the better part of a year, so I'm really out of practice.

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**Summer**

Two weeks into a holistic infertility treatment, you jokingly tell Pete that if his crazy Eastern voodoo magic can get you pregnant, he can name your child whatever ridiculous hippie name he so chooses. Things are going surprisingly well—you have come to love your new friends, new job, and new city—but there is still something missing. As Pete continues to tap needles into your skin, he teasingly suggests the name "Herbal Peace Montgomery." You laugh and quickly counter it with "Harmony Flower Montgomery." He smirks and then without missing a beat, he deadpans, "Hey, it sounds better than 'Carson.'"

xx

Fourteen months later and on the first day of summer, southern California experiences its strongest earthquake in fifteen years. You, of course, find yourself trapped between floors in Oceanside's elevator—at thirty-eight weeks pregnant and in active labor. Fan. Freaking. Tastic.

Luckily, you are not alone. The elevator is cramped, hot, and poorly ventilated, but Pete and Dell are there, and the three of you together possess more than enough knowledge and experience to bring a baby into the world. It's just that this wasn't what you planned. At all. And you really want an epidural. And some ice chips. And for Dell to not be checking your cervix.

But you are very thankful that Pete is there and bracing you against his chest as he tries to help with your breathing. He has become your best friend and perfect complement, and though neither of you wants to jump into marriage any time soon, he proposed last week.

Incidentally, he is also the father of the child who makes her grand debut about ten minutes before paramedics arrive.

You make it to St. Ambrose nearly an hour later, and even though the surrounding environment is busy and chaotic because of the quake, you feel more calm and content than you can ever remember feeling. This is the dream. It's finally here, and you can hardly believe how lucky you are. Your beautiful seven-pound daughter has ten tiny perfect fingers, ten tiny perfect toes, a perfect little face, and a very strong pair of lungs. Most importantly, she has two parents who love her and each other. The one thing she lacks, though, is a name. This child is nothing short of an absolute miracle, and now that you are finally holding her in your arms, 'Carson' just doesn't seem to fit.

"What do you think, Dad?" You ask, smiling over at Pete who is gazing down at the infant in awe while softly tracing the outline of her ear.

His answer is so quiet that you barely hear it: "Summer."

At first, you laugh and think back to the day where you both traded off-the-wall names, but after a few seconds, you realize he is serious.

xx

It's a name you would have never considered before, but looking at one-and-a-half-year-old Summer Elizabeth Wilder now, you can't picture her being called anything else. Her hair is an even brighter red than yours, and the hazel eyes that she inherited from her father always have a sparkle about them. She has an endless amount of energy, loves the water and the beach, seems to just _know_ when you need a little bit of extra cuddle time after a difficult day, and even in her sleep, she never stops smiling. 'Carson' simply would not have fit this little girl who is so completely a 'Summer' both inside and out.

"Hi, Mama," she greets you cheerfully while literally climbing up the steps to the patio where you have been sitting for the last hour as she played with Maya on the beach. Though there is a significant age difference, Maya genuinely enjoys spending time with Summer, and Summer, naturally, adores sixteen year-old Maya.

"Did Maya have to leave to do homework?" You ask her, already knowing the answer, as she toddles over in her little pink sweatsuit and light-up sneakers that Pete insisted she have as an early Christmas gift.

"'Ess," she pouts, reaching her arms up and allowing you to pull her onto your lap and wrap her into the cozy green blanket that surrounds you. Her cheeks are rosy from the December cold snap, and you have been wanting to just cuddle her and keep her warm ever since you first stepped outside.

"You'll see her tomorrow," you assure her gently.

She gives one last pout for an added touch of drama and then squirms around in your arms in an effort to get warm and comfortable. Eventually, she tucks her head underneath your chin, grabs a handful of your grey sweatshirt with her chubby fingers, and stills. You smile as you feel her body relax, and then you run your fingers through her hair before beginning to soothingly rub her back. It's moments like these that you treasure most. When you moved to California just over three years ago, you never could have imagined any of this. You have the greatest friends anyone could ask for, a job that is less high-profile but still very fulfilling, the miracle baby that you still aren't sure you deserve, and every night, you go to sleep wrapped safely in the arms of a man who loves you just as much as you love him. It's disgustingly perfect, as Violet says, but you are so incredibly thankful for everything that this second chance in life has given you.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Summer sighs contentedly against your chest and mumbles something that sounds a lot like, "Uh-roo, Mama," and because that doesn't make much sense, you glance down and ask your daughter to repeat herself.

"What did you say, baby?"

Summer opens her eyes again and blinks a few times before offering a sleepy smile and answering:

"Luh you, Mama."

And for a moment, you are speechless. She's never said that before. You have been expressing that very sentiment to her since long before she was even born, but this is the first time she has ever said it herself. It's so simple, but at the same time, it's also so amazing, and you're suddenly finding it difficult to breathe as your heart swells because your little girl _loves_ you.

"Oh," you manage to respond in a small voice that reflects both your surprise and the tears of pure happiness that are beginning to make their way down your cheeks. "I love you, too, Summer."

"'Kay," she says shyly while snuggling into your shoulder. "Nuh-night."

While taking in a shaky breath, you hug her just a little more tightly and then press a kiss to her head. "Have a nice nap, sweetheart."

You know you're going to cry when you tell this story to Pete in a few hours.

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:) 


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